Out of Ink
by Hawki
Summary: InkQuest Oneshot: The story was left incomplete. The pages had run out. Sophie had no realistic option but to turn back. But this was her story. She would press on.


**Out of Ink**

"And alas, milady, the book ends here. To continue on is death I fear."

Sophie frowned. Indeed the book had ended at this point. Beyond the town, beyond the light of the moon, was a deep darkness. Why darkness represented the empty page she did not know, but it was darkness all the same. The unfinished pages, leaving only the unknown. The book, the journey had been started, but could not end.

"And so dear girl, we must turn back. To continue on is means we lack."

And Sophie looked at Leonard the Lionheart, now appearing more bold and in keeping with his namesake than when she'd first encountered him under attack by that swarm of bats. "One job," people had said, "one job." One job and he'd messed it up. That he'd been under attack by ravenous flying beasties was something that the townsfolk didn't seem to care about.

And though he urged her to return, Sophie could not call him a coward. For a character to venture outside the pages of a book was madness – the other characters of the story had told her as much. Their book was unfinished, never would be finished, and they were content with that. That a reader had read herself into their work was unheard of, but it couldn't change the fact that the reading would come to an end before the end itself had been conceived of. And if she could read herself out, she didn't trust herself to finish the story.

"Milady?"

_But what if I still continue? _she wondered. _What if there is story to be created, if not found? What if this darkness could give way to white, so that the white may be punctuated by darkness, not consumed by it?_

"Oh dear Sophie, linger not. We can't go on, have you forgot?"

"No," she said. "But your light I need. I'm in this book, I came to read."

And so Sophie extended her hand. Leonard had lit the lamps of the town, yet still carried a torch. A torch she desired for what she wanted to do.

"A torch in dark is my desire. Please dear friend, don't make my ire."

Leonard trembled. "But my dear friend Sophie, you can't go in. The book is over, pages thin."

"Leonard-"

"Oh please oh please, oh please think twice," Leonard wailed, getting down to his knees as if to pray to a god or goddess (and being the reader and not the character, Sophie supposed that being a deity wasn't too strained an analogy). "Don't leave me, you are so nice."

"Nice I am, but daring too. Now light please Leonard, shoo-shoo-shoo."

Slowly, Leonard obliged. She felt guilty making threats, but people often spoke in rhyme in this story, and she was barely keeping up. It was as if the author writing her lines had fallen asleep at his desk.

"Now go home Leonard, do not worry. I will find the story, find my quarry."

And again, the lampman obliged. Returning home to the village. Back through the story. Back to dawn. As the pages were turned again, as night came back, he would go through the same motions.

_Finally, _Sophie thought as she returned her gaze to the darkness. _I don't have to speak in rhyme anymore._

On the other hand, she didn't have a friend at her side. But taking a deep breath, she entered the darkness, the light illuminating the way. The darkness writhed and squirmed, like the tentacles of a sea beast trying to bring her down into the depths. Depths that were as dark as the beast itself.

_I can do this, _she told herself, biting her lip as she waved the torch from side to side. _I've read this far. I can read some more._

And indeed she had. Chapter 1 had been the tower. Guard Dog had greeted her, and let her continue. Chapter 2 had been the village, where she had met Leonard. Chapter 3 had been the mill.

_The mill…_

She glanced around, trying to see the structure. The darkness covered her vision. She had entered the entropy of the unwritten word.

_The torch!_

The torch was flickering. The darkness closed in deeper, as if entropy was its own master.

_No!_

So she kept walking. Thinking of all that she'd read. All that she'd seen. Of Guard Dog and Leonard. Of the sun and moon. Of all books written, all books that would be.

The darkness writhed. Touched her.

_No!_

She squirmed. And-

_Is that ink?_

She looked down at her arm, at the splodge the darkness had left behind. It looked like ink. Certainly she'd had plenty of experience with ink on her hands and arms, so messy was she with the quill. And taking comfort from the familiarity, she pressed on. The darkness pressed in.

And she pushed back. Always walking. Until she saw the light. A white light.

_Am I through?_

The torch flickered, but it mattered not. She was nearly there. Through the darkness.

_Am I?_

The torch died. But the darkness could do nothing. There was darkness in the light. But it belonged there. Belonged _with _the white, not apart from it. Darkness that spelled out one word, and one number. A darkness that she rushed towards in joy. Darkness that spelt out the following…

**Chapter 4**

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><p><em>AN_

_Admittedly took a liability with the rhyming in that there was no sign of it in the trailer for the game, but I suppose rhyming comes with whimsy. _Child of Light _believed that at least._


End file.
